


The Three Heads of the Dragon Come Again

by Naerya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Book Character Descriptions, Daenerys is in the middle of the Targaryen Sandwhich, Dark Daenerys, Dom Dany, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Sansa bashing, Shameless Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Targaryen Incest, Three Heads of the Dragon Reversed, Threesome - F/M/M, at least at the beginning, book canon, titty sucking, very smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naerya/pseuds/Naerya
Summary: Following the betrayal orchestrated by the woman he once thought his half-sister, Jon Snow finds himself at the mercy of Daenerys Targaryen. His newly met aunt has a surprising proposition.





	The Three Heads of the Dragon Come Again

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags.

**Daenerys Targaryen**

**302 AC**

**Post Battle for King’s Landing**

 

“Do you despise me Jon Snow?” Daenerys asked the man kneeling before her. She sat atop her throne of melted swords. The throne that she fought and bled for. A throne that she had killed thousands for. Drogon was with her, curled around the seat, staring at the man kneeling before her. Her dragon was over eighty feet long and far too large to fit in any throne room except one built for a dragonlord.

“No, your grace.” Her nephew lied. Bound and bruised as he was, she commended his courage. Even now he met her eyes, defiant. His kingly beard had been shaved but she ordered his brown locks to be washed and cut were the tangles could not be undone. She knew he had a reputation of some great swordsman but now she could only stare at his pouty lips and wondered what they could do.

Drogon growled his warning and acrid smoke wafted from his nostrils. Jon looked to her dragon, a beast that could swallow him whole with ease and did not flinch.

“Do not lie to me, _nephew._ It is unbecoming of a prince and especially a _king_.” Jon did flinch then. “How could you not despise me? I am the very reason you are here. The reason your sister… forgive me, cousin betrayed you. That does have to sting.” She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Jon grimaced at the mention of his family. “When you have lived a life as tragic as mine it all does grow quite dull in the end.”

Tyrion had told her this Jon Snow’s story back when the man was still King in the North and Daenerys had to wonder what god took issue with her nephew. “Raised a bastard. Despised for it and yet you became Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, only to be betrayed by your men, killed and then resurrected. Lead an army to save your sister, only to find out that it was all a lie and your sister had never been there. Proclaimed King in the North by your father’s Bannermen only for those same lords to deliver you to me in favor of Lord Stark’s trueborn daughter. That is a tragedy.”

Jon stared at her with his cold Stark eyes. Tyrion had told her that Sansa Stark looked nothing like her cousin. How queer those Northern Lords were to abandon a man who was clearly the scion of the House that had ruled over them for thousands of years. “Get to your point and be done with it.”

They were alone in the Great Hall, save for Drogon but if Ser Jorah had heard his tone, her Bear Knight would have struck him. “If I were to let you free what would you do?”

“I do not know. Didn’t expect to live very long if we are being honest.” Jon answered. His laugh was gruff and short.

“You might not.” Daenerys joked, neither of them found it funny. “You would not try and take vengeance on Sansa Stark or her husband? Did they not take what is yours?”

“Winterfell was never mine, I am no Stark.” She wondered if the words were to convince her or himself.

“Does vengeance hold no sway over your heart?” Daenerys asked.

“I have had my fill of it.”

“A pity there is no fire left in you. I suspect you would have been a lot more interesting months ago.” Those words did get the reaction she was hoping for and the glare he sent her hinted that there might be a dragon within him. Perhaps it was simply slumbering.

“All this talk of my vengeance. What of it?” There was a sharp bite to his tone and his anger made her legs quiver. Even at his most vulnerable, Jon Snow had never begged. Her time with the Dothraki had taught her that strength was something to respect.

“Because your cousin and her puppet-master think me an imbecile. They believed delivering you to me would be enough to blind me of their schemes. As we speak Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark plot to displace me from _our_ family’s throne. I needed to know if you could be an ally, but it appears your spirit is broken. A dragon without wings is merely a wyrm.” She stood and stalked down the steps of the throne. She did not fail to notice his eyes rove over her form. The black and red dress she wore was the same attire from her coronation as Azor Ahai by the High Priest Benerro. Completing her image was the Conqueror’s crown of Valyrian steel and inlaid rubies, none could deny her as Aegon come again. _But even Aegon needed his sister wives._

When she stood over him she spoke, “Vengeance was sweet to me. I killed Khal Jhaqo, a man I swore to bring to justice after he raped the women I freed. I killed the Great Masters of Meeren after they crucified one hundred and sixty-three children, one for each mile from Yunkai to Meeren. I watched as the slaves ripped apart the Old Blood of Volantis after they betrayed me. What is a dragon who shies away from bloodshed?”

Jon did not answer her question. She grew frustrated. “My husband fears that I will kill you though his family would raise no protest. In fact, I think they would thank me, after all my brother left Aegon’s mother for your own. Yet the first son of Rhaegar does not want to see his little brother die.” She noticed Jon’s grimace at the mention of her brother’s name. “Does that not sit well with you? You are the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel and Jaehaerys the Wise. In my darkest nights, when my fears were the deepest, I reminded myself that I shared their blood to give me strength.”

He frowned. “All my life I wanted to be a Stark. For men to say my fa- Lord Stark had four sons instead of three.” He shook his head. “A ruler must make their own decisions, what do you want?”

“I want to know what kind of man you are.” She admitted.

“Why would you need to know a man before you execute him?” There was a growing defiance in his voice. _Not broken entirely I see._ The thought excited her.

“You know nothing Jon Snow.” His eyes widened at the words. She continued and circled him like a predator would its prey. “It would be easy to kill you. You have no armies to call to avenge you. No dragons, even the clothes you wear are not yours.”

“Then why hesitate?” Jon Snow asked.

“I have learned the easiest routes do not always lead to the best solutions. When the Conqueror came to Westeros it was said that those that bent the knee to him were treated with an open hand despite it being well within his ability to destroy them. Your cousin believes that I am a monster without mercy. I suspect a great many believe the same. I intend to show them differently.”

If there was any renewed enthusiasm in her nephew at the prospect of surviving he did not show it. “And so, you want assurances that if you let me live I won’t try to usurp your crown? I swear on my life I do not want to sit on that throne of yours.” He motioned with his head to the throne of swords. A sound akin to steel brushing against stone resounded throughout the throne room as Drogon shifted. The dragon stretched its long neck and its massive head brushed against her. Wider than she was tall, Drogon’s amber, plate sized eyes squinted to regard Jon.

“That is not the only assurance I need.” Daenerys said. A look of confusion briefly cracked his icy mask.

“An assurance I won’t try to kill my sister and take back the North?” Jon looked angry. “Sansa can have Winterfell. Let us see her hold it against the Others.”

“We will deal with your sister’s betrayal accordingly. Plotting against the crown is a serious offence that cannot go unpunished, but you can forget Winterfell. Your place is here.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“When my brother Viserys died I thought I was the last of our house. Aegon changed that, as have you.”

“There was one more.” Jon said.

Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”

“The Maester at Castle Black, his name was Aemon Targaryen. He was the brother of Aegon the Unlikely.”

She paused. “I did not know that.”

Jon smiled softly. “Most do not. Maester Aemon was over a hundred years old and blind. Even King Robert had forgotten about him.”

Daenerys stared into his eyes for a trace of a lie, but she could not find one. “What happened to him?”

“I sent him south to protect him from being burned by Stannis’ Red Witch and… I sent him to meet you.”

“Me?” Her voice rose an octave.

“Aye. His words were _“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.”_ The Maester believed you were the one he and Rhaegar Targaryen were searching for in their prophecies.”

Hope filled her heart. “Is he still alive? I have not heard from him.”

Jon shook his head. “Sam wrote that he died on their sail to Oldtown. Gilly named their son after him. Aemon Battleborn.”

Daenerys nodded. She had not met this Gilly nor Sam. “Thank you for telling me this.” The urge to touch him became too much to ignore and soon her finger was tracing the line of his jaw.

“Your Grace?” He asked. To her surprise there was a sudden color in his cheeks.

She found his reaction fascinating and could not help but trace his plump lips. “I have earned many titles. _Khalessi_ , Breaker of Chains, _Mhysa,_ Mother of Dragons but my favorite is Aegon the Conqueror with teats.” Her fingers brushed through his hair. “Aegon needed his sister-wives to establish a dynasty and I will need my nephews by my side as well. Aegon is my Rhaenys but you will be my Visenya.” The Northman’s breath hitched and his dark grey eyes filled with incredulity. The tip of her thumb threatened to push past his lips. She felt her inner dragon stir when he made no move to pull away.

Daenerys studied the man kneeling before her. _The dragon has three heads. Aegon had long ago proved himself when he found me in the Dothraki Sea. Could this one be the third head?_ Her brother’s prophecy that she witnessed at the House of the Undying had filled her with both hope and dread. Two men who would make her no longer alone in the world. Two of her blood, who would be her sword, shield and council. As three they would stand against the world. It had taken _years_ to find the third head. She ran a hand through his mahogany brown hair.  Initially she had been disappointed that it was not silver but now, up close, she found she liked the color. Her fingers found his face again and her hand stroked his jawline, adorned by the slightest amount of stubble. His face was long, almost gaunt but it was handsome face in a roughhewn sort of way. “What happened here?” She asked when she saw the scars that lay dangerously close to his right eye.

“An eagle attacked me.” Jon said simply. Her brow arched but her nephew did not elaborate. _He talks much less than Aegon._ Daenerys did not know if she liked that. Aegon had always been her source of music and conversation. The comparative silence of her other nephew was both intriguing and disquieting.

They had not known what to make of the North and the man who, however briefly, ruled it. A bastard of Eddard Stark, one of the men who disposed of her father. A deserter of the Night’s Watch. The King of the North for less than half a year. When news came of representatives of the Vale at Winterfell, Daenerys and Aegon feared that they might have to fight half of Westeros just after dealing with the Ironborn threat in the Reach. And then the King of the North was betrayed by the woman he thought was his half-sister, stripped of his title, true parentage revealed and shipped to the south as in an attempt of appeasement. Daenerys had been skeptical even then but when a blindfolded Jon Snow had been laid before Viserion, the dragon’s excitement had been palpable. _He is my blood._ She knew those words to be true.

“What if I were to refuse, would you burn me?” His words were like a claw tearing into her gut. She felt hurt and anger in equal amounts. Her fingers dug into his hair and she wrenched his neck, so she could peer directly into his eyes.

“I am no kinslayer.” Daenerys’ lips curled. She leaned closer. “But I will not let Rhaegar’s son, _my nephew,_ leave when I just found him. You can either be a prisoner in the Maidenvault or rule as my consort. Choose wisely.”

“That is not much of a choice.” Jon said dryly, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “And your husband? Is he fine with this?”

This time it was Daenerys’ turn to smile. “We have shared partners before.” The look of surprise on Jon’s face made her laugh out loud.

“I haven’t…” Jon faltered.

“Haven’t what?” She goaded. The ball of Jon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “Never been with a man?” He nodded. “There is a first time for everything.”

She stepped close once again. “Will you join us Jon Snow?”

*

Their marriage ceremony was comparatively brief. There were no septons in King’s Landing. The Mad Queen had sent abominations bred by her Master of Whispers to scour the city of the warrior sons and poor fellows before setting the Great Sept ablaze with wildfire when it was filled to the bursting by those who sought to escape the carnage. Her and Aegon’s sack of Volantis had come with the backing of the Red Faith and when they landed in a war-ravaged Westeros they found the Riverlands awash with recent converts to the Red God by way of the actions of the Brotherhood Without Banners.

Moqorro served as their priest. Jon’s eyes had widened at the six and a half foot tall, black skinned man with flame tattoos etched across his cheeks and forehead. The priest’s long white beard was combed and flowed like a white lion’s mane over his robes of scarlet and orange satin. In his hand he held an iron spear as tall as he which he beat against a stone amongst the blackened remains of the Great Sept of Baelor.

Thousands of smallfolk gathered at the rim of the hillside to watch the binding of their new rulers. Above her children circled with lazy beats of their wings. Daenerys was between her two nephews. She was dressed in a dress of scarlet and white with a silver cloak of fox fur. She wore her hair loose and the long strands tumbled to her buttocks. Aegon and Jon wore identical outfits of black and red with the sigil of their House sewn across their breast. Her younger nephew had no other clothing than the outfit he had come with and so he wore one of his brothers.

Of her two nephews, Aegon was taller though only by a few inches. Jon still fit his brother’s clothing well enough and he looked every inch a prince in their house’s colors. She felt even shorter between them, arm in arm with both. Aegon was the very image of his late father, tall with flowing silver hair, a strong jaw and eyes of dark indigo. An easy smile was on his sun kissed face. Jon was paler, his face long and scarred, bearded and yet no less handsome.

Moqorro delivered a powerful yet short sermon in High Valyrian. He sprinkled blessed water from a golden pitcher on their brows and then the trio jumped over the small burning fire as one. Just like that they were wed.

“That is all?” Jon questioned. Daenerys realized that he only spoke a few words of High Valyrian. “Yes. You are my now my husband.” She answered. Jon’s answering smile was small but warm.

“And mine as well I suppose.” Aegon joked. Jon grew quiet once again. Aegon laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Relax, I do not know what Daenerys has told you but neither of us expect you to do anything you are not comfortable with.” His tone grew playful. “Besides I would not want to draw the ire of the White Wolf.”

“Are you mocking me?” Jon asked. His eyes narrowed.

Aegon grinned. “I would not dare. Daenerys and I heard of the Black Bastard on the Wall and the wolf who devoured the Boltons.”

“That last one could use a bit of creativity.” Jon quipped.

“I can be quite creative in other ways. _Our_ wife can attest to that.” Aegon answered. The smile on his face was predatorial.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Smut will come next chapter, I promise.


End file.
